


Little Moments

by FloraOne



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Canon Compliant, F/M, Lots of it, Post stars, Post-Canon, Shorts, also this can be very real in parts, but always a little fluffy, but can be anything, is in there, most so far are fix-its
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 13:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14916047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloraOne/pseuds/FloraOne
Summary: It's the little moments that make the biggest impact, they say. In this series of short stories, it's those little moments that you'll see. A birthday fic for Uglygreenjacket, in which Usagi and Mamoru will share a moment each, all across different canons and arcs. But beware of a big portion of angst served with your fluff!





	1. Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> So, I asked UglyGreenJacket what she wanted for her birthday, and she reasoned that it's "the little moments" that she loves most in my fics. So I made her write up a wishlist of prompts in which those little moments should take place, and what you see here is the result of that, and my twist on them.
> 
> (I'm gonna warn you beforehand. Even though the prompts I got were all wonderfully fluffy – I somehow ended up twisting them up rather angsty… heh.)
> 
> Happy birthday to my wonderful beta (it's today! Go over and read some of her fics to send her a happy birthday review or two! ;) ) – I hope you like your gift! Thank you for always having my back, love.
> 
> And all the rest of you guys, I hope you enjoy this little excursion all the same!

Usagi loved her hair buns.

From the first day she'd tried to pile her hair up when she was really little, and her mother had taken over the task when she'd been in tears cause it was _wrong_ – and it took a few attempts, but then she looked at herself in her mother's pretty, intricate, vintage handheld mirror that she'd instructed Usagi to carefully hold with both hands, although she was usually never allowed to touch it, and the hair buns looked _exactly_ right, even when her mother had been so baffled and puzzled on where the detailed instruction had come from… the deal had been sold.

She'd never changed her hairstyle after that.

Her mother had had to alter hoods and hats for her to fit the buns, otherwise she wouldn't wear said head attire. Whenever, for special occasions, her hair had been done professionally (or was supposed to) – that one New Year's family photo shoot came to mind, when her Mama had all rented them fancy, expensive Kimono for the day, and paid a stylist for her hair that also was supposed to do Usagi's – Usagi had crossed her arms and refused in loud wails until her hair buns were just simply redone and styled with bows and hairclips. Once, she'd allowed for bigger hair buns, all her hair piled in them, instead, even when it felt weird.

She'd perfected the style over the years. She could do them within a minute. Two times hair folded across, one twist, once through, twist again, pin, done. Speed was important, obviously, when one was as prone to oversleeping as Tsukino Usagi.

She could almost do them in her sleep. Muscle memory knew the steps without her having to consciously think about it at all. Also a bonus early in the mornings.

There were, of course, times when they still were a little wonky. Not often, mind you, she had that DOWN, but still. Days when she'd forgotten to wash the conditioner out of her hair the previous night, and her hair was clunky and weird because of it. Or days her hair simply curled more than usual, frizzed out, didn't behave the way it usually did. Then her buns looked uneven or too bushy, or they didn't align, or hair sticked out, and she was growly about it for the rest of the day even when no one ever saw a difference from any other day.

But it never had been the case, before, that she simply was unable to do them.

Not until today.

This was how Mamoru found her, opening up the door to his apartment with just a mere second of surprised, widening eyes.

The look in her eyes must have been perfectly miserable, she knew. Her hair still a little damp from the shower, dried only by the wind on her run here.

Hair flowing open to the ground as she held her shoulder in a weird angle.

His eyebrows pushed down, his face crinkling into a frown as he regarded her, while opening the door wide.

She said she'd been fine after the battle. She'd said not to worry. She'd gotten injured a lot recently, and had noticed how he got increasingly uneasy about it.

They hadn't had a big enemy since Galaxia, only small, weaker, shadowy manifestations of dark energy that popped up recently, as the world fell into hateful emotions… but…

Neo Queen Serenity had lost her power to transform at one point. And Sailor Moon was beginning to go out of these battles more and more scathed.

She saw the lines it created on Mamoru's face. So, whenever she'd figured it wasn't so bad, she'd kept it to herself.

But this night, after her bath…

She'd had the choice to either knock on her parent's bedroom door, ask her mother to help her in the morning, but admit to the big, dark purple bruise on her shoulder that kept her from lifting her arm… or go to Mamoru, and get that healing, golden touch, but own up to admitting the big ugly bruise on her shoulder, yet again.

It had been a tough decision. And she'd already found herself in the hallway, knuckles brushing wood that parted her from her mother's soft voice, but…

But to Mamo-chan she could at least explain it.

Or feign having fallen down the stairs.

She heard the soft click of his door being shut behind her, as she bent to slip off her shoes, and felt him turn, and his breath on her neck, as he stopped just behind her, once she'd straightened back up.

She was about to open her mouth, let the lie slip past her tongue, but swallowed it, unsaid, when his fingers brushed along her neck and into the hem of her light, summer cardigan, brushing it off her shoulder with the softest, lightest of touches.

His sharp intake of breath made her press her lips together and fight frustrated tears, when she stood there, all sleeveless dress and bared injury, so it wouldn't put pressure on the ugly, giant patch of darkened skin.

And it _was_ giant. She'd seen it. Purple and black and deep, dark violets and greenish on the sides, spanning from her collarbone all across to her shoulder blade.

She pressed her lips together, anticipating the scolding she was sure to come. _How could you not have said anything? Are you ok? Why ever would you do that? When did this happen, I was right there. I could have healed you right then._

But none of it came. She frowned when he moved his hands lower, toward her hips, and gently pushed, not saying a word.

She moved into the apartment, felt him slip around her and disappear into the bathroom.

The apartment was dark, his lone reading lamp the only light source besides the moon that shone in through the big window front, and she sat on the big bed rather self-consciously, hands crumpling on the soft, dark, silky sheets she knew all too well.

Her eyes met his when he exited. Warm, concerned, but absolutely without judgment, and she sighed in relief.

Only then did she see what he'd brought. Her frown turned into surprise and slight amusement, when he settled the items on the bedside table next to her.

But it was only a second before his hands were in her hair, parting it, and running a big, heavy brush through it she _knew_ he didn't use for himself, couldn't have bought for himself.

She held her breath as he moved gentle hands through it, ever so careful. Looked up at the concentrated crease on his forehead as he focused on his task.

And held back the moans that dared escape her as his fingers ran along her scalp, kept them in by biting her lip – this was not that sort of situation, however good it felt.

It took him awhile – way longer than it would have taken her, and she'd bitten her tongue not to giggle when, at one point, she'd felt one streamer of hair tumble down across her back from his hold, and she'd heard his softly mumbled curse.

But then he'd reached out to hand her the last item from his nightstand, and she'd blinked at her reflection in the sleek, silver, unadorned, handheld mirror, and looked at two perfect hair buns.

She blinked at herself in surprise.

He shrugged, a bit sheepishly, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. They both knew there was no way he'd have been able to do this, if he hadn't spent forever mulling over how exactly she did it, for it to turn out exactly in the way she wore them. Perfectly.

They also both knew he wouldn't have needed to do this. She would have been able to do it herself after just one touch…

She lowered the mirror into her lap, looked back into his eyes, saw the warmth there when he stepped toward her once again, and brought his magical, soft fingers to the patch of skin that both hurt and tingled under his gentle touch.

His eyes moved from her skin back to hers, and she held his gaze even when she felt the popping, soothing, slightly itchy sensation of his healing touch. Held his gaze even when she knew her skin was long baby smooth and unblemished.

Held his gaze when his hands slipped back into her hair and cradled her cheeks and the back of her neck, and suddenly it _was_ that sort of situation, and she fell back onto his sheets with a moan swallowed by his lips.

It was hours later that he made her promise never to hide from her. Never to hold back. Ever. Urgent words into the darkness and the hollow of her neck that no longer hurt, when she'd almost fallen asleep.


	2. Speechless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Post-Ail&An "Little Moment" coming up!

They had so bloody damn much to talk about.

Hey funny… you remember this whole past life, too? And oh, that whole year you lost? Kinda my fault. And while we're on it, you know, all those other things, even from before you tried to kill me and I killed you instead, and before you were brainwashed, that we never got the chance to talk about? Like, say, that time in Starlight Tower, when I transformed in front of you, and you in front of me, and you died in my arms all over again, and it made me remember all these past days on the moon when you were my world, even when ten minutes before my heart leapt in my throat, when I told you you're not top spot worst in the world anymore?

Not to mention the whole thing where part of him split off to still protect her anyway.

How… does anyone _talk_ about things like that?

Usagi exhaled noisily, frustrated. Yes. There were some really important things they really ought to work out.

Instead she said, "So… do you… have plans tomorrow?"

She beat her own fist against her own head even as she said it.

Mamoru looked at her, his frown understandably confused. Or weirded out, she wasn't sure.

"Eh… are you," he started, broke off and started again. "Are you asking if I, we…"

Her eyes widened. "No!" she rushed out, holding up her hands, not knowing why. She hadn't asked for a date. She wasn't this gutsy… at least not right now.

And her heart jumped a little at the way his shoulders fell, and the corners of his lips alongside. Did he… want her to?

It was not half an hour ago that she'd buried herself in his arms when he'd remembered. When he'd stood in front of Sailor Moon and recognized her as Usagi. A half an hour ago that she clung to him as Ail and An left with the new sprout, that she jumped out of his arms when the girls teased them, blushing to the roots. And the blush had stayed, as well as the sudden distance between them as they ascended the giant piece of ruble that used to be Natsumi and Seijuro's apartment building. And it stayed, when the girls were long sorry they'd interrupted them in the first place, and run off in all directions with apologetic looks.

They'd stood there, not knowing what to say, until Mamoru had suggested he walk her home.

He didn't seem to know what to say, either. But what _would_ he say, when suddenly remembering that not only had you lost a year, and this silly girl was Sailor Moon, but she was also this magic princess that you'd died for once, only to do that again, over and over.

It was a little hard to stomach.

Except if he…? She whipped her head upward, her hair fluttering a little at her side, trying to keep up in speed, and she noticed how he went a little rigid, startled at the movement.

She'd only realized now that she was jumping to conclusions. He might not…

Her heart was in her throat, and her voice broke when she started speaking.

"You… do remember them, right?"

He frowned at her in confusion.

"Umm," she gulped, blushing. "Endymion and—"

His shoulders slumped a little. "Serenity," he finished for her, interrupting her.

He gave a little nod, and cleared his throat in a peculiar way, before focusing his gaze on his feet, instead of her. "Yes. I remember them, too."

She gave a nervous, silly laugh that made her flinch right after.

She'd been running after him like a crazy stalker for weeks, trying to get him to remember a couple that died on the moon god knows how many thousands of years ago. And now that he did…

She'd never thought past him remembering. Never thought it through completely. How he would also remember how he'd died in her arms. Twice. Three times, even, if one counted Zoisite's Crystal. All for that silly girl with the weird hair that he liked to insult.

How much she had cost him, in any life.

And how, without the memory of those two, he'd never been interested in her. Whatsoever.

Tsukino Usagi was someone he teased. Someone he'd never looked at twice. Sailor Moon, maybe. Serenity, certainly. But not Usagi. Usagi was Odango Atama, the girl with the bad grades and the crush on Motoki.

Just hours earlier, he'd walked to Natsumi's with a bunch of flowers in his hand…

For weeks she'd tried to flirt and catch his eye. In silly VR game arcades, in community theatre plays, watching Manami… But nothing. Mamoru had no eyes for Tsukino Usagi, if she wasn't Sailor Moon or a dead princess.

She sighed again, missed the way Mamoru's hand twitched lightly in time with his breath, when her hand almost brushed his, as they awkwardly continued their walk.

It was late. Or early, however you wanted to look at it. The usually busy streets of her little Juuban where deserted, when they passed the closed Crown Arcade, and she watched Mamoru look up at the sign as if in a new light , and then glance at her only to clear his throat once more and look away.

What did he remember? Usagi blushed when she recalled the countless run-ins they'd had here, mostly involving her googly eyes for Motoki, and how he'd always seemed to have been there to tease her about it, to rub it in her face how he was taken and saw her as a sister, or embarrass her in front of him so that Motoki had no chance to ever change his mind about how silly she was.

She jumped a bit when he started to speak, even as the Crown disappeared behind them.

"You used to like Motoki," he said, eyes forward and voice small.

She frowned. "I don't anymore. Not since—" she broke off, embarrassed. Not since you.

"Not since you remembered them?" he said instead, causing Usagi's brows to crease further.

"Well, yeah, but…" she stammered. Except for the fact that it coincided also with that moment when this disarmingly handsome boy had shared his story with her in this evil magic elevator, and then turned around to save her life, and she'd felt that thumping in her heart she'd felt every time she'd been in Tuxedo Mask's arms, only to lose him before she had the time to figure anything of these confusing feelings out, and they morphed into grief instead.

He sighed. "You tried to tell me."

Usagi needed a moment to understand what he meant, but when she did, her eyes widened and her hands locked in front of her mouth. Oh those awful, embarrassing pictures she'd drawn. How he'd fled from her, not sure who was worse, Natsumi or she, except that both of them were crazy.

"Oh god," she groaned. "I'm so sorry, I…"

He interrupted her.

"Why'd you stop?"

She blinked. Huh?

"You stopped trying to tell me, at one point," he said, and finally, his eyes turned to hers and her heart beat faster for it. "Did I…. Did you…stop…" he stopped, shaking his head, dark strands of hair moving across his forehead in a wild manner as he did, and his eyes were lost to her again.

They passed a corner. The sky was turning lighter, the light blues that remained receded toward a hot pink sliver on the horizon, making the red cobbles of her home district seem even more colorful.

She turned at her corner automatically. It was her way home. Except that he went straight ahead and she bumped right into him because of it.

She would have fallen. Not from the impact – it wasn't that hard, but from the way her knees forgot to function once she'd accidently brushed his hand and bumped off his chest. Oh, silly, silly Tsukino Usagi.

His hands grabbed her arms as if by reflex, steadying her with a warm chuckle, a raised eyebrow, and something swimming in his eyes that she was familiar with, but couldn't name.

She smiled up at him sheepishly. This chuckle she knew, at least. She'd gotten it from him no matter if he didn't remember her, or if he was teasing her for not having gotten one of Nephrite's fake Tuxedo Mask love letters like all the other girls in her class, even when she did. Always that same look in his eyes. Slightly disbelieving, slightly confused, slightly charmed.

She bit her lip, and nodded her head towards the street she'd tried to turn into right through him.

"Sorry, I," she started, frustrated. Talking to Mamoru had never been a problem. Why was it now?

Because now she had something to lose. Now he remembered.

"Sorry," she started once more, shaking it all off with a deep sigh. "I live that way," she said with a shrug, and watched his eyes cloud over with a frown once his gaze moved down toward the small residential lane that would eventually bring her home.

Even as she said it, she'd felt it too, though.

He hadn't known where she lived. He knew barely anything about her.

He knew a lot about Sailor Moon and her struggles. He knew a lot about how she might not be all that came to mind, as a crybaby fuzz like her was not easily cast into the form of Tokyo's local superheroine. And he certainly knew Serenity.

But he knew next to nothing about Tsukino Usagi. Had never looked twice at Tsukino Usagi.

And who was she to demand this, if it didn't happen on its own? She may have been Serenity in a different life. But she was Tsukino Usagi now, and he was Chiba Mamoru, and he owed her nothing.

The thought made her throat constrict.

She balled her hands into fists and whipped her face back toward him, and somehow, he'd done almost the same.

"Listen—" they both said in unison.

Mamoru's hand flew to the back of his head, and exhaled audibly. "You first," he said, a little breathlessly.

Usagi's eyes went a little wide, her heart a little fast.

"Um," she started, and it was hard, getting it out, but she knew it wasn't fair if…

She scrunched her eyes shut, for a little moment, willed the words to come out.

"It's ok if you don't want to be with me," she pressed out, and it felt like the words cut across her tongue, and burned their way through her throat right up to her eyes.

He blinked at her, surprised, opened his mouth to reply, but she talked right over him.

"I'm not exactly the princess you remember, I know that. And I know you've never shown an interest in me before, and only because for some freak magic coincidence we happen to be both reborn here, doesn't mean… it doesn't mean you…"

"Usagi—"

He tried to talk again, and he moved a little closer, but she had to break eye contact, and mumbled the rest to the floor.

She took a deep breath. "Need to like me. I know you don't, and I—"

"Do you not want to be with me?" he asked, talking at the same time as her, because she wouldn't stop, and his voice was a little raised, and a little shaky, but that might just be her hopeful imagination.

"Of course _I_ do, but you shouldn't if—"

"Of course?" he asked, interrupting her again. "Because Motoki—"

"Motoki?!" she frowned, utterly confused, interrupting him once more, since this seemed what they were making their thing here. "What does Motoki have to do with—"

"Well you liked Tuxedo Mask, sure, but… you liked Motoki. And you wanted him to be Tuxedo Mask, you said so, when—"

She shook her head, rolled her eyes. "I had a silly crush. It was nothing. Not at all like—"

He shook his head sharply. "You knew me. You didn't have a crush on me."

She pursed her lips, glared up at him. "That's not… You were with Rei."

He swallowed, took a step back, the hand flew back into his hair, and she exhaled forcefully. Maybe fighting about this wasn't the best idea.

"Listen," she said, and she hated herself for the way her voice shook when she did. "As I said, you don't need to feel obliged to be with me for a past life that's… gone."

She couldn't look him in the eye, and instead she focused on his hands, and frowned when she saw it clench.

"I'll get over you, I promise, and maybe we can… I don't know…" her voice became shakier, and the burning in her eyes harder. And god, she didn't want to cry, she didn't, but…

He took a step closer.

Her breath hitched in a hiccup. She could smell him like this.

It made the tears flow over, and she could feel them run down her cheeks and pool in the corner of her lips and run down her chin.

But she had to say this.

"I'm not who I was back then. I'm silly, and bad at school, and loud, and you're … _you_. And I _know_ I'm not who you'd want and—"

And suddenly his hands were back on her arms, and his lips were on the corner of her mouth where her tears had collected, and her heart stopped.

She felt her lips quiver and him freeze as he retracted, before she turned wide eyes to him, to the soundtrack of her heart drumming rhythms in her chest so hard that she could hear its deafening beat in her ears, when she stepped up onto the tips of her toes and crushed her lips back to his.

They were soft, and pliant under hers, and his hair was so warm and silky, when she pushed her hands into the messy strands, and her heart clenched, when she felt his arms snake around her frame and tighten, before he lifted her up, and his mouth open under hers.

It wasn't like a first kiss. It was like a 'Welcome Home'. It was like a 'Please Don't Go'

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there, I gave them their first kiss ;) You're welcome.
> 
> I mean… it's STILL kinda tragic, considering the fact that next episode they'll still break up and all, but… y'know. They have this now, anyway ;) And I have to say, I really, really enjoyed writing this. A gap where canon was just lacking a kinda huge important scene.
> 
> I hope you all approve, lol.
> 
> And I do mean it, that they would have needed this in canon, in my opinion? They never got to talk about any of that crazy shit. Not once. And while they didn't work through all of this here, at least it was… y'know… kiiinda at least slightly addressed?
> 
> It is pretty damn sad they never got to talk seriously. In fact, their first ever ACTUAL conversation about themselves, the first serious talk they ever have about any of this, is the "I'm not gonna be fucked by fate go away" break up speech Mamoru gives her. Nothing else beforehand ever. Sooo… kinda see how Usagi would be quick to believe it in canon, no kidding.
> 
> Anyway. You know that reviews are what makes a fanfic author's world go round, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this! So please, guys, talk to me a little in the review box!


	3. Sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when you asked for a Post-Chibs'-birth "little moment" I am preeeetty sure you had something different in mind, love… but I couldn't help myself with the realism, lol. (Plus, no one in the world can tell me that Crybaby Usagi would suffer the pains of childbirth gracefully. Fight me on this, I dare you to, lol.)Anyway, I hope you still enjoy your birthday fic XD
> 
> Also, for the sake of keeping with the realistic take on the topic (because seriously we do need some realism here, I think. At least I do), let's just place this little moment in 90s anime canon – or any mix that involves no healing powers for Mamoru.
> 
> So, here you go, guys, number three in my darling beta's birthday fic adventure!

The type of one-of-a-kind, unrivaled bliss you will ever know, they said. A kind of love and happiness so pure it will make you weep in gratitude, they sad.

Well, the weeping they got right.

Usagi dissolved into frustrated, broken sobs when a sharp, high-pitched wail once again rang through the night.

Who did this? Whose idea was this? This was torture. Raw, undiluted terror.

No sleep ever. Constant bleeding. Sewed back together in places she had no idea before that one could rip apart in the first place, and that now made going to the bathroom feel like she was giving birth all over again, and routinely causing her to scream louder than that infant daughter of hers currently terrorizing the entire apartment building.

The way she could not sit without that bloody donut cushion, because why _would_ anyone tell you beforehand that by pushing out a child all the way through your intestines, you would also push out some other parts of your body, resulting in lady parts that looked like a war zone and hemorrhoids that made you not ever want to sit again.

The way she cried, and cried, and cried, and couldn't stop because these hormones were making her brain go through a blender. And Usagi knew of crying. She was no stranger to her very vocal emotions, to sudden bursts of crazy waterfalls… but THIS? This was hell. This was wrong. This was _worse_. How could THIS be what everybody had praised so much? And all throughout there was no sleep, because that little person in the crib that kinda resembled Chibi-Usa (if she squinted real hard and imagined infant blue eyes a different color) needed her so constantly.

She was not made for this. She wanted to take it back. Who in all the bloody universe would allow her, Tsukino Usagi, unreliable, cry-baby Tsukino Usagi, to raise a child. At 22, no less? Who in their right mind would be happy to be with child at 22?

She had the strongest urge to crawl, bleeding and all, onto the Oedo Line, and only stop once she was all the way out at the doorstep that would bring her begging to Setsuna. So she could at the very least steal a time-key of her own to give herself a good shake, ten months ago, when she was weeping in joy at a pink strip in a piece of plastic.

She'd been _so_ very happy, when she'd found out Chibi-Usa was on the way.

Usagi curled into the pillow, muffling tired sobs even when she painfully lifted her bum from the bed. She felt Mamoru's concerned hand on her back, heard him mumble, but shook her head, brushing him off without even looking, when she got up – tears freely flowing and shoulders shaking with sobs that she was too tired to even try to make sound like they came from a human – and walked over to her daughter's crib, lifting that perfect, yet noisy bundle to her chest, before attempting to lower herself onto her bloody donut-shaped hell-souvenir.

She'd lost a tooth. She'd lost her figure. Puberty had nothing on the state of her skin and the gross cyst-like acne that covered what felt to her like every patch of it. Behind her ears. On her back, her chest, even her bum. Making her look as if she'd repeatedly sat on a bee's nest. She'd grown little spidery, fire-red scars like the branches of trees all across her tummy, and lighter, smaller versions of it on her upper arms and thighs, and even beneath her breasts. Not to mention those weird little skin tags that started appearing in various spots all over her, when this weird human body in its third trimester of pregnancy started growing random bits of skin - because _whyever not_. The way she hadn't been able to TASTE FUCKING ANY FOOD for weeks in her last trimester, because her sinuses – after months of giving her nose superpowers that made everything smell _atrocious_ \- had swelled up for no reason whatsoever except that pregnant bodies did crazy shit sometimes and you weren't allowed to take anything to treat it, so the benefit of being allowed to gobble up all the weird and delicious foods no questions asked – the ONE thing she'd been looking forward to – didn't give her anything even though she was Hungry All The Time because everything she ate tasted like weirdly textured cardboard. And anyway, everything had been _gross_. What was this living hell where _food_ suddenly made her _nauseous_? _Gross_. All of it. Except all the things she hadn't been _allowed_ to eat (and ice cream).

And that had been a tidbit nobody had ever mentioned to her in the first place. She'd imagined pregnancy as this magic place where no one could ever nag her about shoveling All The Food down her throat. And instead there had been all these strict regulations (and Mamoru was strict about strict regulations). No unprocessed milk products. No burgers. Lots of meats off the menu. No raw fish – in a country that had perfected raw fish as their culinary pillars of their cuisine – was not exactly something that helped her navigating Japanese food, and left her with severe food envy for 9 months.

And forgetting the pain? My ass. Dying had been less painful, no kidding.

And then there'd been that _tiny little fact_ that due to Chibi-Usa apparently trying out nightly Senshi training sessions on her bladder, it had been weeks even prior to the horribly scarring and traumatizing act of birthing her that Usagi had slept a night through.

So….

 _Eating_ and _Sleeping_! The two things Usagi excelled at, the two things that made life so blissfully AMAZING… robbed of them. Completely.

And it hadn't even stopped after she'd given birth. It had only gotten worse. Most food regulations were still in place. She teared up when she even thought of sleeping a night through. And eating… Mako-chan had the habit of bringing over home-cooked food. The 21 days they had been out of the hospital, Mako-chan had been there every day to stock their fridge with food, turning on the oven as she left. And not just any food. Yesterday she had brought her soufflé with homemade whipped vanilla cream. The kind you crack open like a crème brûlée and it collapses like a custard-filled, warm cream cake, until you put the cream inside and you get rewarded with heaven on your tongue…

Just that even Makoto's divine, masterful, heavenly confections, once reheated – because _of course_ you don't get to eat food anymore when it's _warm_ with an infant in the house – only tasted like plain sponge cake any more, and Usagi had started crying louder than her newborn over the loss.

The red digits blinked on Mamoru's alarm. 3:19 am. In about three hours the alarm would go off again, and Mamoru would have to get to up for an 18 hour shift at his training hospital, leaving her alone to deal with all this she'd claimed she'd wanted and now felt so absolutely inadequate to deal with.

Chibi-Usa's mewling got louder even when Usagi practically dangled her boob in her little face.

She felt Mamoru's eyes on her. Concerned and sympathetic.

Not helpful. So, she didn't look up to catch his eyes, and her own sobs got a little messier, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him get up and leave the room.

She breathed in through her nose, and looked down through blurry tears on the softest, perfect tufts of very light pink hair that she knew from experience would turn darker one day.

That tiny little nose was all wrinkled up, and her little face was currently the color her eyes would turn to be in a few weeks time. Mouth wide open and screaming.

Usagi rocked and rocked, tried her to catch a nipple, grunting.

They'd changed the bloody diaper a half an hour ago. That _couldn't_ be it.

And so she almost jumped through her own tears, when Chibi-Usa was lifted out of her arms, and onto Mamoru's shoulder.

Usagi blinked. He'd put the pink, cotton burp cloth against his neck and chest, and strapped on the little front carrier sling they'd bought only last week, and strapped her inside, rocking all the while.

He looked as tired and frustrated as she did. His hair was sticking up, messy and slightly sticky from sleep. The bags under his eyes were shining lightly purple, and his movements, usually so graceful, were slow and clumsy.

But when his eyes once again met Usagi's, they were as warm as ever, and it made swallowing feel painful, as all her emotions suddenly decided to collect in her throat.

Chibi-Usa got even louder still, but gurgled little sobs even as she clawed her pudgy, little perfect fingers into Mamoru's night-shirt, when he bent down to kiss Usagi's forehead, with tears still streaming down her face just like her daughter, just silent now.

The kiss was soft, and his lips lingered softly against her skin, when he mumbled into it.

"Please," he whispered. "Go back to sleep," he repeated what he'd said to her when she'd first gotten up. "I've got her."

She nodded, hiccupping. And as Mamoru started pacing the apartment, singing hoarse lullabies and rocking up and down for what Usagi knew would be a while, Usagi crawled her way back into bed, and fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow.

At least she wasn't going through this alone.

He got her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sleep deprivation is a form of torture, just saying. And I mean… we're talking USAGI here, let's be honest. So yeah, this kinda sums up how I imagine those first few days of motherhood going for Usagi – and the three of them.
> 
> Anyway, those are the ones I've had lined up so far. There are two prompts of UglyGreenJacket's still to go, but not written yet. However, I'm going to Japan for three weeks in less than 24 hours, so I'll be going on hiatus for about a month.
> 
> (Though if you wanted to check in on that trip, go head over to my tumblr under the same name. I'll be staying in Azabu-Juban, so I'm gonna try to post a photo or two or fifty of my trip while I'm away ;) !
> 
> So, anyway, please let me know what you thought of this very none-so-fluffy short story, and I will hopefully see you again after my trip!^^


	4. Powerless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my prompt for this one was, "Usamamo make dinner together" as a small, significant moment. And yes, that SHOULD have been entirely fluffy. Yes. It should have. Except it didn't turn out to be…
> 
> I hope you like it, anyway xD
> 
> This "Little Moment" is set in the 90s anime, and can take place anywhere after R, really. But I imagine it to be sometime mid S – after Usagi's birthday, but before Chibs is back. And, it would be a good idea to remind yourself of all the events that took place in Episode 66 (y'know, the infamous supermarket and cooking together for Chibi-Usa's school event one in R).

_Mamoru, 4:32 pm_

_What do you want us to make then?_

_Usagi, 4:33 pm_

_How about Curry?_

Mamoru stood waiting by the little supermarket in the center of Juuban, sighing as he alternated between looking down the street, and checking his phone's screen for new messages – but no new ones blinked up. Just what they'd written a couple hours ago.

Usagi was so late he could have been in and out already, getting all they'd need, but he knew better than to chance Usagi's wrath - she tended to take it utterly personal whenever she didn't get to go grocery shopping with him on nights like these. ' _Supermarkets are our thing!_ ', she'd insisted once, in giant, hiccupping fits of tears, when he'd had the audacity to go without her on cooking night.

Of course, cooking night usually involved him doing the cooking, while Usagi munched away on the ingredients he needed for the cooking.

"MAMO-CHAAAN!"

He cringed, jumped a little, and yet had to smile in spite. Usagi yelled so loud, so far away, running from Exit 4 of the Metro station all the way down Juuban-dori, that the cyclist next to him swiveled a little, old ladies were tutting, and little kids led away by adult hands started pointing.

He braced himself for impact – widened his stance a little, straightened his back, without much conscious thought– and she came bounding into his arms with the full force of a Tsukino Usagi tackle-hug.

He'd been fully prepared to be mad this time. Chide her, at least a little. He'd been standing here for quite a while, and the evening was chilly with the sun having set an hour ago.

Yet she beamed up at him, and rubbed her cheek against his pink dress shirt, and her hair smelled that comforting, familiar scent of _Usagi_ , and he couldn't help the small smile when he grabbed at her arms, yet couldn't bring himself to push her away. There were people looking – something he hated – but there was Usa in his arms – something he loved. It was an eternal battle.

He'd been so very resolved to be mad. Yet his voice was all chuckle when he whispered down to her, "You're late."

She lifted her head from his chest to flinch up at him – it looked adorable. One eye shut, one hand going up against the side of her head in a little fist, long, silky, blonde hair swinging in the process – a gesture she did quite often when she meant to apologize. Usually followed by a long rambling explanation.

One that followed suit, of course.

"I'm so sorry! I _swear_ I left Rei's on time, but then I met Unazuki on the bus, and then missed my stop because we talked – she has a date tomorrow, did you know? And then I went so far I had to take the metro back, and then –"

He shook his head, a small smile around his lips, and tugged at her arm, lacing his fingers with hers as he pulled her into the supermarket behind him.

"—the train was so full, and everyone was so slow, you have no idea, Mamo-chan, and when I came out the – _LOOK, Mamo-chan, Chocobis are 30% off_!"

He was suddenly jerked back, as Usagi stopped and yanked at his arm to see what her tone implied was the greatest news of the day, and he found himself looking at brightly colored boxes of variously flavored chocolate crocodiles, as well as a very ecstatic girlfriend.

He rolled his eyes, handed her a shopping basket, begged her to _only choose three_ , and then left her to what he knew was to become a very lengthy decision process, while he quickly went through the isles to gather the ingredients they would _actually_ need.

By the time he dropped everything into her basket and took it from her, she was near tears because the decision was too hard, and he rolled his eyes and grabbed all six different boxes off the shelf with a grunt and a sigh.

And he sighed again, when they exited the supermarket only to have Usagi skip across the street, as if on autopilot, into the little French bakery next door, with the kind cashiers of which each and every one knew Usagi by name. Because _of course_ they'd need dessert - and an entire cake for just two people.

So, armed with Curry for two, moist strawberry-vanilla sponge cake for six, and chocolate for a whole month, Usagi's hand slipped into the crook of his arm and she sighed contentedly as they made their way through the little backstreets toward his apartment complex.

Juuban was busy this time of day. The izakayas and restaurants were packed, people were going home in their suits and school uniforms, others going out again. Shops still open – and busy, though not for much longer, except for the ever-bright conbinis.

It was Usagi's favorite time of day in Juuban – he knew that. She loved the buzz of life, without the hectic atmosphere of day. People were winding down – and letting loose.

It was a little too busy for him. A little too… he couldn't really name it. Except that it was a buzz he felt left out of. People meeting other people. Hands shooting up to greet someone from afar with happy smiles that were never for him. It felt a little alien.

Except when it was for him – when Usagi yelled down three blocks in her haste to get to him.

His heart did the little jump that he would never get used to at the thought, and he was suddenly much more aware of her small little fingers clutching at his shirt in the crook of his elbow.

He looked down at her. She was smiling down the street at a little old lady who waved at her and greeted her by name. She smiled, yelled something back – too loud as always.

Everyone knew Tsukino Usagi in Juuban. Smiles and waves were _always_ for her.

He couldn't help the almost possessive tug in his chest, and how he lifted all the bags over one of his shoulders, so he could take her hand, instead.

Red cobbles made way for grey asphalt, and a few houses more and an elevator ride later and they arrived at his doorstep.

"Wait!" Usagi yelped, when he slipped his hand into his pocket to extract his key.

But she ripped hers from her pocket and held it up in the way she always did – triumphant, beaming, like a prized item – and he rolled his eyes and stepped aside as Usagi unlocked his door.

She was out of her shoes and in his kitchen before he could only bend to unlace his, and he chuckled, when she came back to relieve him of the chocolate.

But it was only when she fastened her little guest apron – that he'd bought for her, but she usually never used – around her waist, that he realized ... this time he wouldn't be cooking alone. He was a little taken aback for a moment, when it suddenly all came back to him.

Curry. It was a dish he _knew_ she could make. Better than him, even…

She'd made it before. In this very kitchen.

He swallowed.

It had been when they weren't together. Something that hurt to think about. Especially when he dwelled too long on the memory of having been so rude to her that day, the entire time. The way his eyes had been constantly narrowed – so they wouldn't betray what he'd really felt.

"Mamo-chan?"

She'd stopped, looking up at him. Eyes a little wide. Concerned.

He cleared his throat, but he realized the atmosphere had changed. Yet he didn't say anything, didn't voice the thought. He didn't want to bring her down with him.

But, from the way her smile fell and was replaced by a light frown, when she took out the chopping board and started what she obviously, now too, remembered she'd done here, before. ...

He swallowed. Ripped the carrots she was about to chop from her hands, and rinsed them over the sink, before handing them back.

"You need to wash them first," he said, and his voice was raspy, and the air seemed too thick.

She didn't react. Didn't roll her eyes and pretend she was just going to do that anyway, like she usually would. Just started chopping.

So, he turned, started washing the rice, peeling the ginger in silence, and the air got even thicker.

He didn't want to go there. Didn't want to think about it. But his mind had other plans, and he had to exhale sharply when the look in her eyes flicked across his mind like it was burned into it – her eyes shining as she stood mere meters away from here, seeking an explanation that he was too stubborn and panicked to give. Instead he said everything he knew might hurt her. Talked about feeling trapped by a past life that wasn't his.

Lies, lies, lies. Lies that she had believed. Lies that had made her cry and her voice break and her _eyes_ … when she'd turned, back slouched, and slipped through the door and out of his life.

Except that she hadn't been gone from his life. Because he'd been too weak, kept too close. Couldn't keep away. And every time he failed it hurt her more. He could always see it in her eyes.

And because the messages were indeed so mixed, he'd needed to hurt her again, and again.

Although he wouldn't have needed to do that, didn't he? He could have just trusted her. He could have just told her the truth instead of pathetically crushing roses and blowing them into her face. Instead of trying to make her believe he was seeing someone else. Instead of running.

He'd done everything he'd done, because he believed he was keeping her safe.

And then he couldn't even do that.

 _No_.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them, determined. Moved the rice to his sieve to dry, and started peeling the garlic. Exhale. Inhale. Don't go there. Don't go _there_.

That eye – protruding from Diamond's forehead like the monster he was. Nothing he could do to save her. Nothing at all.

That feeling of absolute shame. Completely powerless. He could only watch him take her.

He'd done all this to keep her safe – and then he couldn't keep her safe.

It looped through his head, over and over. Her shining eyes in his hallway – the grotesque eye in his forehead. Over and over.

The sharp, tangy juice of the garlic collected in his palm. He'd crushed it in his hand.

He blinked. Moved to the sink, washed his hands. Took another clove, tried again.

Usagi had her back turned, chopping. They worked in absolute, uncomfortable silence.

But he couldn't take it anymore.

He cursed himself for the way his voice shook, when he spoke. The way he stuttered, and the words didn't come.

But he needed to know.

"Do you... do you think..."

He shook his head, started again. Cleared his throat.

"…If I hadn't come… do you think Diamond would have…?" He swallowed thickly. "Would he have…"?

His voice broke. He can't think it. He can't say it.

Her head whipped around, a little shocked, confused, strands of blonde hair slapping softly against his side and into the carrots.

Her eyes were full of concern, and it made the lump in his throat turn painful.

He's bringing _that_ up, and yet she was concerned for _him_?

She bit her lip and looked away. The carrot she was chopping - mechanically - got smaller and smaller, and he took the knife from her hand before something happened.

She exhaled, grabbed his little plastic bowl and picked up a little piece of carrot and put it inside - one by one, she started filling the bowl - not like any normal person would, lifting the chopping board, swiping everything off it and into the bowl, but piece by piece. Gingerly.

"I mean…I _was_ placed in a bed…" she said. "And…well... he _had_ already undressed me and put me into a different outfit, while I was out... Yeah..." she swallowed. "He would have... "

Mamoru had to grip the counter, knuckles turning white.

Her voice had turned to a whisper. The carrots fell into the bowl with little hollow thuds.

He felt like choking. "Are you—" he started.

Her head bobbed up, and so did her hands. A little piece of carrot fell to the floor, but she didn't notice, and he ignored it fully. "I'm ok now!" she interrupted. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Nothing happened, really. I've…" she frowned "…literally had worse?"

He cringed, had to exhale shakily. He hated the thought. Hate wasn't a strong enough word to describe the panic and fear the thought induced in him.

"It's just… It's not a nice feeling at all to have been so… so…"

"Powerless?" His voice was a whisper, barely there. His throat completely dry.

"Yeah… I guess. I mean… I've no idea what he already did while he..." She frowned, broke off. Sighed. "Before I was in that dress," she whispered. "I used to dream about it sometimes..."

Usagi jumped, startled, because his fist had banged – hard and loud – against the counter with an angry grunt, and he whirled around.

He dreamt about it, too. Often. They were the worst nightmares of them all. So much worse than the ones that had caused that whole mess in the first place.

Her eyes were wide, and he apologized, hushed and quickly. He hadn't meant to let that out like that.

He ran his hands through his hair – completely forgetting about garlic fingers – and took a step closer.

His hands were trembling. And the way Usagi's eyes were wide, and all that chocolate lay untouched… But he needed to say these things. He'd ignored them enough.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Her mouth formed into a little smile. It was warm, even if it didn't fully reach her eyes, and she shrugged. "It's ok, Mamo-chan. Everything turned out fine – and we saved Crystal Tokyo, didn't we?"

Her tone was nonchalant. As if nothing had really happened. As if it was all unimportant now. He shook his head sharply.

"No. I meant … I mean, _of course_ , I'm _so_ sorry that this happened to you, you have _no_ idea, but also…I'm sorry, it's my fault." He swallowed as Usagi's brows furrowed in confusion. "Diamond— That _monster_ , he –"

She interrupted him, frowning. "What's your fault, Mamo-chan?"

His eyes flitted to the carrots. The little bowl stood abandoned on the counter. It was hard to breathe.

"Everything that happened to you – if I'd just kept my promise—"

She shook her head, eyebrows drawn together, mouth slightly open. She looked utterly confused.

"Mamo-chan…"

"All we went through," he said, swallowing, looking down at his hands. "All _you_ went through, because of me… I…" he broke off, found her eyes. They were blinking up at him, more than a little lost.

"I broke up with you to keep you safe. And then I failed to keep you safe. It's my fault that he—"

" _Wait_."

She raised her finger. Poked him in the chest. Her voice was loud now, almost authoritative.

"You think Diamond was _your_ fault?" she asked. Her tone was incredulous, her eyes narrowed.

He deflated a little. Inhaled a shaky breath and ran his hand back through his hair. "I couldn't do anything. I could just _stand_ there—"

"You caught Chibi-Usa. You kept her safe," she said, frowning.

He groaned. A little loud, it seemed, because Usagi jumped again, and he rubbed his hands across his face.

"I didn't keep _you_ safe!" he almost yelled.

Usagi frowned. "But that's not your job," she said. It was matter-of-factly. As if he were being dense.

He blinked. "Of course it is!" he said. His tone was irritated. Stiff and defensive, and his arms crossed involuntarily.

She blinked as well, and her head shook in that almost imperceptible way that indicated she was completely taken aback, and her eyes narrowed some more.

"Mamo-chan," she said, almost imploringly. "It's _not_."

He opened his mouth to rebut, but Usagi ran him over, voice raised and powerful.

"It's _not_ your job to save me. I know you do it all the time, but it's not your job, and what Diamond did had nothing to do with—"

He shook his head. "You don't know what it was like—"

"Excuse me?" she said, indignant. "I was _there_ —"

"—I couldn't do _anything_. I was completely rendered immobile. He just _took_ you—"

"So was I!"

It bubbled up in him. The shame. The inadequacy. Sprang out in the form of ugly, angry tears that formed in his eyes, and he angrily wiped at them.

Usagi froze.

"He _took_ you," he said again. He hated the way his voice shook, the way it started to sound thick and broken. "I thought – I thought…"

She let him talk this time. Fell back on her heels – he hadn't even noticed she'd moved up to her tiptoes, the way she usually made herself taller during an argument.

He pressed his lips together. Looked into her shining eyes, and had to swallow around the painful, awful lump in his throat.

Her eyes looked much too much like _that_ day, in his opinion.

His voice broke completely now, when he spoke. Usagi took in a sharp breath when the first tear fell and ran down to his chin.

"It was so hard," he cried. "Staying away. Lying to you. Hurting you. It was _so_ hard. But I'd thought—"

Usagi swallowed thickly. "You thought?" she repeated. Her voice was small.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," he said. "It had never made sense why I should be allowed to be with you anyway,"

Usagi frowned, opened her mouth, but he shook his head.

"It was the only thing that kept me through it. It was my mantra. I might be unhappy, and you might be unhappy, but at least it was the right thing. At least it kept you safe. Staying away. But then … when he took you… it was all so… so... meaningless. I'd put us into this torture and … And yet—"

He exhaled, wiped at his face. Took a deep breath and wiped at the wetness, but more came.

He wasn't enough. He would never be enough. Were it Diamond, were it Beryl, were it Kaorinite after Usagi's heart crystal. He could always, always, only watch and do nothing.

"No matter what I do, how hard I try," he said, eyes to the ceiling, because he couldn't stand the tears, and he couldn't stand _that_ look in her eyes. "I can't save you. I can't protect you. I'm not strong enough—"

"Mamo-chan," she interrupted. Her hands flew to his chest, and he felt the shock of it.

Her eyes were determined, and it caused him to blink around his embarrassing, burning tears.

"Will you listen to me?" she said with a frown.

He nodded mutely, and her frown loosened, to be replaced with a little nod of her own as her hands traveled down his arms to lace through his.

"Mamo-chan," she said, "The Silver Crystal is the most powerful object in the Solar System."

He frowned.

"You know that, right?"

He nodded.

"If I can't help myself, then…" she trailed off, swallowed. "I'm a klutz, you can definitely save me from _myself_ a hundred times over… but _that_? If _I_ couldn't withstand Diamond's eye, then…"

She shook her head. "What I'm saying is… I know it must be hard, seeing me in danger like that," she said, shrugging. "I know because it's hard to see you in danger, too. But it's not your fault,"

He opened his mouth, but she didn't let him speak.

"I'm the bearer of the Silver Crystal, Mamo-chan," she said, uninterrupted. "It draws bad things toward it like… like…" she frowned. "You know what I mean."

He swallowed, nodded.

"It's not your fault. If anything, it's the Crystal's fault, but not yours."

He exhaled, frowned.

"As for the breaking up with me…" she started, and then pursed her lips, and extracted one hand.

Only to hit him on the arm. Hard.

He had to chuckle through his tears.

"Don't do that again," she glared.

He shook his head, chuckling again.

"Never," he whispered, eyes locked on hers.

And then finally her smile was back, and she stood back up on her tiptoes, and brought both her small, warm, soft hands to his face.

He took a sharp intake of breath – like he usually did, whenever her skin touched his, even after so long.

With gentle fingers, Usagi wiped his tears away.

"Good," she whispered, and leaned up.

He swallowed, met her halfway.

He kissed her all the time, of course. But it was a little desperate now, a little pushing, now that he was reminded of … that time.

And so, the kiss turned deeper than those they'd shared before, and his heart ached because he needed more. More of her.

That was his cue to withdraw, of course. And he did so with a soft little pop of their lips.

Usagi's beam was back in place, when she opened her eyes back up.

And then she grabbed the bowl, thrust it in his hands.

"Pot. Stove. Now," she ordered in a cheerful voice. "Your girlfriend is hungry."

He laughed again, sniffed a little, and shook his head, before turning back to his cutting board.

Girlfriend was hungry. Better get back to cooking.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't actually know what to do with this initially. I knew I wanted to incorporate remnants of the Curry cooking episode in it, because it fit. But something was missing, and I scrapped the idea, and started working on a "first dinner party after they moved in together" thing that somehow felt a little off, because it didn't have the Curry, and I had loved that thought. But then I got an anon prompt for my Lemon Tree series about Mamoru's reaction to the Diamond incident – and I felt that fit here, into this scene. So, I kinda do feel I disappointed everyone lol. Uglygreenjacket for not going fluffy, and my anon for not using their prompt in a smut as they'd meant it to – but the story finally feels right, and I can only hope you feel so, too.
> 
> So, I guess instead of a near-future!fic, this was a little bridging-the-gaps thing again. You know, a little dealage with all the curveballs this series throws at them? Giving them a little bit of time and room to process and talk about it, before the next big thing hits? Because I agree – the Diamond incident is something they would have both had to actively deal with (Usagi, obviously(!), as well, not only Mamoru. I feel they would have both felt violated by this (near-) violation!) – and I feel it would have taken them a while to talk about. Usagi would have had to gnaw on it for a while, but resilient as she is, she would have dealt with it quite well – and pretty fast. Mamoru, on the other hand, is a master of repressing feelings, and even when Usagi (undoubtably!) had the objectively bigger package to deal with, I think Mamoru's dealing would have been … near non-existent. And he would never have brought it up on his own, either. It would have needed a chance situation to come up again – like something that triggers a memory – and after a long time had passed, especially for him to even feel confident enough to not hurt her by talking about it in the first place.
> 
> So that's what I did. Of course, most things are still left unsaid, and it's a little messy – because this is how these things go in real life, jumping from aspect to aspect, not making a lot of sense, brushing over important things and instead focusing on less important ones – but sometimes a few honest tears and understanding smiles talk louder than words can.
> 
> My thanks go to Kasienda – thank you for sharing your views on Mamoru's Diamond "trauma" with me, and encouraging me in my own! And of course, to Uglygreenjacket, for prompting me, for beta-ing for me, for not being mad when I go and do the complete opposite you want xD This is for you, love.
> 
> And to quote Kasienda: Reviews are love! They are my greatest encouragement in writing, and I would love to hear you guys's opinions - as well as your views on Diamond, and how the anime dealt with the aftermath of R as a whole!


	5. Rootless

She talked a lot about being Chiba Usagi soon. He saw her trying out the sound, watched her practice her new signature.

 

They’d never actually talked about it. After he’d proposed, she’d just assumed that’s how it would be. It made him feel… weirdly uncomfortable. That name on her.

 

He fell in love with Tsukino Usagi. Tsukino Usagi meant a darn lot to him. That name… Chiba, it didn’t. And it suddenly terrified him.

 

Obviously, it was tradition to do it this way around. Especially in Japan, a country that valued tradition so much. But what they really valued in this tradition were the family ties… and there weren’t any that Usagi would tie herself to. Just him. Only a family she would leave behind.

 

And what a family it was! Loving parents, cheeky, growing little brother. Aunts and uncles and cousins and Ikuko’s parents, and Kenji’s frail, sweet grandmother. Just last year, he’d been allowed to attend the wedding of Usagi’s first cousin, at Usagi’s side. It had made him feel uncomfortable, and so, so nervous, and at the end of the day, he’d felt so jealous of this huge, affectionate family that had greeted him so warmly, had treated him as one of their own, even when he really… wasn’t, was he?

 

What really was a name? It was a family.

 

Mamoru didn’t even know, couldn’t be sure, if he really was this Chiba Mamoru. He had never felt any connection to this name. It was the name they’d told him at the hospital. It had never fully clicked. The thought that this name would now be forever tied to Usagi…?

 

No, he didn’t even know if he really was Chiba Mamoru. He felt entirely unconnected to that name... but... if he took _her_ name, he would know he was Tsukino Mamoru, simply because he chose to be.

 

It was raining outside, pitter-pattering against his window softly, when she hummed to herself with one leg dangling over the other, her legs exposed under his shirt that she wore, a manga in her hands as she lay on her back, while he sat upright in bed, hadn’t read the book that lay open in his lap for quite some time. Instead, he’d looked out the window, frowning at the droplets of water that slowly cascaded down the other side of the glass pane.

 

“Usako?” he asked, eyes transfixed at a lone raindrop and its way down the maze of droplets on the glass.

 

“Hm?” she made, lowering her manga only slightly, only so much that she could see his face, and he turned his head to find her eyes.

 

“Would you mind,” he started, then drew his eyebrows together, stopping.

 

This time she lowered her Manga completely, propped up her elbow to rest her face on her palm, and moved her knee to playfully kick him in the legs.

 

“Tell me!” she said, lips curving into a smile, “What did I do _this_ time?”

 

He threw her a look. Pursed his lips. Did he give her so many lectures that she’d assume— he shook his head, closed his book, sighed deeply.

 

Her smile fell, and she sat up, suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong?” she breathed.

 

He shook his head again, quickly, “Nothing!” he said. “Just…”

 

He swallowed. Usagi moved on the bed, climbed under the covers next to him, rustling them, and he felt her legs curl against his, her arm and soft head moving against his naked chest, and he lifted his arm in reflex as she moved against his side. His arm snaked around her form to draw her even closer.

 

“Would you mind terribly if I took _your_ name?” he finally spat out, way too nervously.

 

She blinked up at him, surprised. Didn’t say anything for a moment.

 

“Tsukino? Instead of Chiba?” he clarified, in case she didn’t understand what he was talking about.

 

Her eyes were wide, a little shocked.

 

“…if you don’t mind,” he finished, self-consciously. He’d turned his eyes away, clenched the fabric of the white sheets between his fingers.

 

“Mamo-chan…” Usagi whispered, and he blinked.

 

 _This_ name… This name did mean something to him.

 

He felt her hand softly curl around his chin, even when he studiously looked ahead. Felt her fingers gently prod at him, moving his face so he would look at her.

 

He complied. Her eyes were warm and full of sympathy.

 

“I just…” he started, answering her unasked question. “If your family allows it… I would love to be a part of it,” he whispered.

 

Usagi’s eyes became glassy. He felt her fingers twitch against his face.

 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I really don’t mind either way…”

 

He breathed out, nodding. Relieved. So relieved. She didn’t mind…

 

“I’d just… assumed you wanted to keep the name,” Usagi said. She held his face captive, stroking the side of it. Her eyes jumped between both of his. “It’s the last thing you have of your family, after all?”

 

One side of his lips lifted, the small huff he let out moved the tiny, pale hairs on her arm.

 

“I’d tie myself to ghosts,” he said, nodding. “I want to be a part of life, instead.”

 

She blinked again, but then it turned into a smile. “Ok, then,” she said, and curled herself back around his middle. His heart was thumping. “If you’re sure.”

 

“I am,” he whispered.

 

He only hoped her family would be ok with it, too. But that was something to worry about another day.

 

Right now, he had his fiancée’s naked legs pressed against him on his bed, and his book had long since been forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guys, I recently stumbled upon a discussion of the kind that I’ve read several of before: It was about why the heck Chibs said her name was Usagi Tsukino when she fell from the sky… and, these kinds of debates always left me kind of… confused? Is the thought that this is just really her name, that Mamoru took Usagi’s name, so strange that people would not even think of this?
> 
> Anyway, where I live it’s completely normal, even if not the norm, that a husband would take his wife’s name. My husband has, for one. 
> 
> And, you know… what is a last name, really? It’s a tie to a family. Mamoru doesn’t even remember his, while there is hers waiting for him to be a part of. And for a man like Mamoru, who in canon expressed the thought that he didn’t even know ‘if he really was this Mamoru Chiba,’ and felt disconnected from that name, I don’t think it would be a long shot that he might agree to take hers. 
> 
> And you know, since his daughter’s name is Tsukino Usagi, I’m saying this is practically canon. Also, you know, Tsukino Mamoru WOULD make him ‘Protector of the Moon’, so… 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think about it, please!


	6. Harmless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm on a writing break. But this is a tiny little moment I whipped up before I started that break, so, here you have a little something! And, thanks as ALWAYS, to my beta Uglygreenjacket, who doesn't have it very easy with me, lol. Especially when I start lacing in foreign languages into my writing. Anyway, I hope you like this as much as she did!
> 
> This one I wrote to a song, again. It's by a German artist called Namika and called 'Je ne parle pas français' and about this impromptu date with this stranger who does not speak your language. So, there you go ; )

 

* * *

Harmless

A Short Story in the "Little Moments" Series

* * *

"No, Serenity!" Mars hissed, under her breath, heart beating frantically, trying to weave through the crowds to get to her charge.

She'd seen silver hair fall from her hood and disappear into the crowds. Drawn like a child to the music and the night and the flickering light of the tall and intricate torches and the thrum of livelihood this place exuded.

Mars ran, dodging, jumping. Where… where did she go?

This was unacceptable. This… She'd been against this from the start. It was Venus who wanted to humor Serenity's wish to see the people of Terra as a civilian before the banquet, before meeting stuffy officials and being introduced to a Prince known for his arrogance and being forced to dance with him while everyone watched.

She'd been against this. It was too dangerous for her here. It should have been Venus, here with her. How did this even happen?

"SERENITY!" Mars now downright called, getting frantic.

She lost the Crown Princess of the Silver Millennium on the one planet in the Solar System most hostile to Lunarians. How the fuck did this even happen.

Mars turned, shoved people aside that yelled at her in this strange, crude tongue that Serenity did not even speak.

"SERENITY!" she called once more, breathless, frenzied. But it was lost in the beat of the drum and their strange rhythmic music and the hub of this bazaar in the mass of bright, too rich colors.

_Fuck_.

* * *

Serenity's heart beat wildly.

The sheer amount of life that surrounded her here was taking all her breath away. She felt light-headed, heavy, grounded.

Even in the night, this place was alive.

She hadn't even noticed she was alone, at first.

She knew, of course, that she had lost her way. That she should find Mars. But… this was it. This was her chance. All her life she had stared down at this blue and green marble, wanting to be here, but never allowed.

So many _people_! Walking together, sandals pressing into soft ground and grass and cobbled streets, huddling and laughing and boasting around the bonfires and drinking bitter-smelling liquids from heavy, earth-colored cups in the light of the fire.

A festival, Jupiter had explained, earlier in the day. It was unlike any festival she had ever seen. There was dirt and shouting and laughter, so much laughter.

And the foods. Oh, how it all smelled so rich, and spicy and delicious.

Honey glazed whole pigs on spikes over large fires and glowing coals, bread roasting on sticks, children running exhilarated, breathless among people's legs, and the noise! So much noise.

Women that set out their tents and read from hands in whispered, conspicuous voices, in tones that sounded like they'd must be promises of great successes and exciting affairs. Puppets staging plays behind wooden huts in lavish miniature robes and crowns made from paper. People laughing, giggling, _living_.

She stumbled, once more, held up her hands in apology as a man whirled around, wide-eyed. She'd stumbled right into him.

_Goddess_ , he was barely _dressed_! And not like the way women on the Moon wore translucent clothing that left little to the imagination but covered all. No, as in, actually not wearing anything covering most of his limbs!

She was left to ogle his glistening skin, almost forgetting to bow once more, but he just laughed, pushed her along, and she stumbled again.

How long would it take her to get used to this gravity? She felt like she was falling over her own feet.

And yet it felt so _right_.

She found herself wandering among people wearing richly embroidered vests and little else, skin sun-kissed looking as if they'd been tipped in the thickest of chocolate and caramels, and the floral colors and styles of Elysion all around.

Her heart was beating right out of her chest.

She walked on, and the beat that was just a distant thrum became louder, beckoning her. The music drew her to it like a moth to the flame, and she found herself stumbling almost deliriously, uncharacteristically gracelessly, to its source. Her heart was beating in the rhythm of drums and flutes and softly plucked strings. It sounded so joyous, so fast, so much like she needed to break out in dance and join them, even when the air was so thick and so warm even though the sun had long tipped behind the mountains.

What met her eyes when she arrived at the source was the biggest bonfire she'd seen in her life. The biggest crowd she'd ever seen. Dancing around and around, old and young and frail and fit.

Her heart soared at the sight. Then constricted, then soared again, held hostage in a dance of yearning and gratitude that she could be here now, that she could see this even only once.

They looked so happy. So carefree. Some of them almost as if in flight, hopping and jumping and flailing their arms in abandon in the heat and the sweat, and the dancing was done with all limbs and heavy use of the hips and sultry looks and touching. So, so much touching.

Hadn't Venus said that Terrans didn't touch each other?

Her heart pounded against her chest so hard she didn't know if it was pleasant anymore or if it hurt to see, to feel this.

It was when she walked around the biggest of the bonfires she had yet to pass that her eyes sought him out for the first time.

He was dancing. Sparks of the bonfire crackled in the air around him. Feet kicking up dust as he turned, twisted, pirouetted, danced in a way that felt like expressing joy, expressing rapture, expressing life. Midnight hair flew wildly about him with his jumps, eyes closed in laughter.

And yet, his breeches looked well-worn, his linen tunic white and simple and not as rich as the other's. Almost like he was trying to blend in.

A man was dancing with him. Blonde like rich honey, almost like Venus, boyish smile. His dress more regal, more important. Another, long white hair, looking stern and off to the side. She blended them out.

She grabbed onto the foreign braiding that Jupiter had laced her hair into under this thinnest of all hoods self-consciously, biting her lip, transfixed, mesmerized.

His tunic was not fully laced up, exposing parts of his chest. It glistened from the heat in the orange light of the fire.

She brushed her teeth against her lower-lip, bit down.

She knew she was staring. She knew she was blocking the sides, that people pushed against her as they tried to walk around her. She knew she ought to move, ought to go. She couldn't engage, it was too dangerous.

But those eyes…

They met hers, suddenly, across the crowd. It caused her to freeze, and look away, too late, too lingering.

She ducked immediately. Drew her thin, grey cape tighter around her, pulled the hood of it farther across her face, and pushed into the crowds.

Every step away from the music hurt her. She pressed her lips together, kept going.

It was warm, so warm, even with a cape so thin. She could feel the sweat pooling in the back of her neck, her brow. A feeling she had never felt like this before, and she had to claw her hands into the fabric to remind herself to not wipe her brow, to not accidentally wipe away the powders and creams from her face that Jupiter had hidden her royal insignia with.

If she exposed herself, this night of freedom would be over. And she wanted to see more of this life, of this hum. She needed more.

Only one night. One night to relinquish her thirst, one night to feel what the life of a human must be like, here in the wild.

One night and she would return to state visits and banquets and smiling only when appropriate. To representation and manners and puffed up chest as she was paraded around her subjects – and they paraded in front of her. Never real, never glistening with sweat. All pomp and boring and façade and marble and not allowed to touch, especially the men.

Those who sat on the throne were not allowed to mingle. And especially not on a planet so openly in rebellion with the moon.

"Qu'est que vous cherchez?"

She froze, when the rich baritone voice – like silk, like sensuality, like hunger – washed over her. Exhaled a shaky breath, before she whirled around and met eyes as blue as this planet from afar, and held her breath.

He looked even better this close up, and she could feel her skin tingle.

He asked something again, or was it the same thing? She couldn't tell. With shining eyes and one side of his lips lifting in a lopsided smile that made her stomach throb… At least she assumed it was a question. She didn't understand a word.

She regretted nothing more in this moment that she had never been motivated to learn the common tongue of Earth.

He spoke again. Those eyes, shining, laughing, coming closer as he cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

Hadn't the girls said that Terran sounded mangled, rough? It sounded so, so, very pleasant, this language coming from his lips.

"I don't understand you," Serenity wanted to whisper, but bit her tongue. She shook her head.

_'_ _Whatever you do, don't speak Lunarian,' Mercury had warned her. 'Most may not speak it, but they will definitely recognize your unique lilt to it that Lunarian Royalty have. It will give you away.'_

_'_ _I have a lilt?!' Serenity had said, appalled._

"Venusian," Serenity said instead, in her best impression of Venus's accent. It had been Mars's idea – Venusians looked a little like Lunarians, with the light hair and the fair skin.

"Ahh," the man smiled, ducked a little, trying to glimpse under her hood.

He spoke again. This strange, beautiful language. He didn't stop.

She didn't want him to stop. She wanted to listen to the melody of his strange words all night. And suddenly everything else dropped away.

She swallowed, brushed her hands underneath her hood, lifted it.

He stopped speaking. Inhaled sharply, and held her gaze.

Her own eyes were wide once again, wary of this strange, intense reaction he had of seeing her.

She swallowed. Turned away.

" _Attends_!" he called, alarmed, his hands flying to the sleeve of her own simple tunic, stopping just before touching.

She turned back, surprise in her own look. He smacked his lips, said something again, fast. It sounded sheepish, apologizing, and then that smile…

The way this man formed words sounded like the most beautiful, most sensual sound in the world. Like she wanted him to whisper it in her ear until she gasped.

She shook her head, exhaled shakily, and then her stomach growled. Loudly. Very, very loudly.

His eyes lit up, and he said something. Something that sounded so soft, so melodic, so alluring.

Her stomach dropped when he grasped her hand, so carefully, eyes searching hers, and when he found something in there that he was looking for, his smile lifted. Boyish, raptured, and he pulled her with him.

He talked and talked in words she didn't understand, and she didn't get enough of, and some, very, very few that she did, that sounded just like they did at home.

Delicious, for one. _That_ word she knew. And he was right, as he lifted the almost sweet, slightly greasy bread to her lips and she swallowed with delight, and then pulled her along, to the next stall, the next taste.

She tasted the tenderest meats she'd ever eaten, and cakes made from nuts she'd never tasted topped with fruits she'd never seen, and she couldn't get enough of this, either. She drank thick honey wine from a cup tipped in his hands that tasted deliriously delicious in a way she wanted to taste it off his lips, and she had no way to say it to him, except to take his hand and draw a heart into his palm with her finger, and somehow his hands shook when she did.

It was then that the music soared into a loud crescendo, and her head once again turned, and her whole body, too, and when she found his eyes again, he was smiling, holding out his hand.

She took it holding her breath.

He pulled her with her, once more. Back through the crowds, back to the warmth of the big bonfire and the radiating bodies that moved to the rhythm, and this time, she wasn't watching, this time, she was dancing.

Tentative, at first. Away from him. But his grin was so infectious, and so it suddenly did not matter that she had never been supposed to dance like this, that dancing in the first place was hard to do in this gravity that was not what she was used to, when she already had trouble walking as it was, and that her palms were sweaty, and that his eyes and lips were so close.

It didn't take long until it felt like she was drunk from joy, until she'd shed the stupid cape and its hood and her braid flew with her feet, until the jumps felt like they were happening on their own, until his hands on her skin felt like they belonged.

She laughed. Shrieked in joy when he lifted her, twirled her. His hands on her hips, her hand on his neck, his arms, his chest. The sway to the rhythm so intoxicating, so natural, so good.

The feeling of his trembling skin as she ran her fingers down his tunic, and he lifted her over his shoulder to her even louder, even happier shrieks, and her breath felt like it mingled with his into the warm orange light of the bonfire, and she felt the sweat run down her back and her breath come short and her heart pound faster than the rhythm.

Everyone around them was talking at each other, shaking their heads, disagreeing, arguing even if in jest, voices raising and lilting in that tell-tale way she knew to recognize even without knowing the language... But this way – the way he whispered in her ear, as he swayed her, lifted her, dipped her... this sounded like a language only they could understand.

This. She wanted this.

Her smile fell when she was once again reminded that she could never have this. The common life. This common man and his beautiful voice against the shell of her ear.

He stopped moving, immediately, when she did. Found her eyes, still with that unabridged joy in his.

She exhaled. She couldn't help it.

Only today. Only this once. Only for tonight.

She kissed him. Her lips were confident, thirsty, strong – his were soft, pliant, eager, but almost... clumsy. It felt as if this was the first time his lips had ever been kissed. It tasted like this was his first glimpse of freedom, too. As if he was locked up just as her.

The look in his eyes changed when she withdrew. Wide with wonderment and fear and the torment that she felt, searching, jumping between her eyes.

Suddenly, there was this ruckus around them. Because of the kiss? Commotion erupting, almost. People were moving towards them, fast. The two men from before, and two more.

Had she broken the spell? What was happening.

Her heart pounded, she found herself gripping his sleeves even when she didn't dare break his powerful gaze, his intense eyes boring shocked into hers.

"ENDYMION!" A voice called. The long-haired one, the stern one.

Was that… Was that it? Was he being called away?

_No_ …

"Je ne suis pas censé être ici," he said. His voice had become tenser, pressed. Hurried. "Quand puis-je te revoir?"

Her heart beat fast. She did not understand a word, not a single one. But, somehow, she did anyway.

_How can I see you again?_

Her ears rung. Why could she not speak this language?!

What had they called him… That was his name, wasn't it?

She couldn't help the way her fingers clawed into his shirt, almost desperate. Trying to recall what they said... Her tongue twisted, trying to pronounce the foreign word. "D-Dimi…on?"

She looked up at him wide eyed. He grasped her wrists on his shirt,and once more, his eyes started to shine, to break into laughter.

He nodded.

_'_ _Dimi sounds nice. I'll be Dimi for you, then.'_

* * *

"Why are you so mad at her?" Venus hissed at Mars, as she walked briskly along the strange marbled corridors with the golden stucco.

They both walked a faster pace. They knew they were more tolerated than welcome, here. This state visit a dire, necessary affair to keep the rebellion at bay.

"So, she kissed a random commoner," Venus said. "Nothing happened. Nobody recognized her, and she won't see him again. It was completely harmless."

Mars pursed her lips, pushed the golden double doors of the visiting chambers open.

Serenity already sat inside, eyes in the mirror as Jupiter brushed out her hair. Her eyes so sad, so very, very sad. The kind of sad she never wanted to see on her princess.

Harmless, yes?

She sighed. "Ready to formally meet the Crown Prince of the Golden Kingdom, your grace?" she said, instead.

Serenity nodded with sunken, melancholy eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually headcanon that Endymion speaks fluent Lunarian, and had he known she was Lunarian, they could have talked easy. However, Serenity wouldn't speak Terran. The Silver Millennium probably had different things to learn that the language of this planet that was only this one blib in the solar system. And let's face it, this girl will become Usagi, and you can't tell me she doesn't have enough trouble already to learn at least some of all the other languages in the solar system of her actual subjects.
> 
> Also, I just really, really like the thought of a language barrier between Endymion and Serenity, and there is something really romantic of someone whispering to you in French, don't you think?
> 
> So yeah, he wouldn't speak French, of course, like she wouldn't speak English, but a lot of the architecture in Crystal looks really European and 17th century Prussian and THEY spoke French, so why not. It gives you a feel of the situation, anyway, lol. Plus, it's the most sensual sounding language EVER, ok?!
> 
> Anyway xD. I don't write that much Silver Millennium, as you know, so this venture still feels rather new to me! And, as you probably also know, "Dimi" is a tumblr invention that I LOVE and have now adopted; and also, please let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have number one ;). Please y'all, tell me what you thought of it!
> 
> I'll be posting what's already lined up very soon, but depending on however this goes, I might extend this Series past UglyGreenJacket's original prompts, if you guys like it as well, and if inspiration hits!
> 
> So, let me know your thoughts on this, please!^^


End file.
